PNPC Lieutenant Kyle Morgan - Fresh Air

[Addison MacKenzie]

(( Crashed Jem'Hadar Fighter - Outskirts of the Bantlox Colony, Laoi III ))

Morgan watched as Imril disassembled the rifle until the component housing the power core was accessible, then proceeded to connect it into the line that was distributing power to the rest of the ship. When the connection was established, several sparks flew from the console and the lavender light that had washed over their faces suddenly went dark.

Morgan: Umm, did it work?

Silveira: I guess so, the glasses are dead.

A distant rumble echoed through the hole in the corridor, and Imril raised his tricorder.

 

Imril: If it worked, then the antivirals should start getting ahead of the worm now... If there’s enough uncorrupted computer left to run the programs. Too soon to say, but I’ll keep checking.

Kyle shrugged.

Morgan: Well, let’s get out of here, then. It smells like shit and I’m sure Sadar’s going to be really mad once she finds out we went in without her permission.

Silveira: I like that plan. Let go, this way.

Morgan: Any reason to stay, Imril?

Imril: I’m all for leaving.

 

Imril moved to their jacket. Meanwhile, Vitor winked and started to climb up in the direction of the corridor, with Kyle not far behind. He wondered if Sil knew where he was going… As if the tactical chief could read his mind, he answered aloud.

Silveira: Trust me, I have a plan and know a shortcut.

Imril: I’m not going to make the usual comment about shortcuts. I did just hotwire a warship. And I think that worked out pretty well!

Morgan: Who am I to argue? Gila sees you poking your head out first, she’s going to think this whole thing was your idea.

 

The “shortcut” was anything but – it required a lot of climbing and crawling, often through confined spaces. Kyle generally considered himself to be in shape, but the ship’s awkward placement on its side meant that even the simplest commute wouldn’t be easy. With Sil in front and Kyle following next, Imril followed behind with his light. On more than one occasion, their visibility was limited due to a tight passageway. When they had to stop to help each other up or down on of the doors situated in what was to the ceiling or floor, Imril took the opportunity to check his tricorder.

 

As they approached the top, there was a distinct change in the scent of the air, a sign that they were approaching fresh oxygen. Then, at long last, they could see daylight from the open hatch, and the trio made their way to the exit with haste.

 

Once outside, Vitor stretched as he turned to the others.

Silveira: Damn, I am glad we are breathing fresh air again. Next time remind me not to take the shortcut.

Imril put one hand over their brow to shield his eyes, and Kyle followed suit. Once Imril’s eyes had adjusted, he consulted his tricorder.

 

Imril: In less happy news, my tricorder is still inoperable. ::tapping their combadge:: Same for the combadges. Here’s hoping it’s just a matter of popping them open and forcing a hard reboot. The sooner we can get a proper scan, the better.

 

Morgan: Here’s hoping.

 

Vitor opened his arms wide in that usual gesture of his. With his mischievous grin and a wink.

Silveira: It's also your fault. I think both of you should know me better by now. At least we got the job done. Now let’s get back and tell Sada the good news.

Imril: And do our part to aid in the evacuation. I’m sure I can steal a minute here and there to repair our gear.

 

Morgan: Somehow, I don’t think she is going to think this is good news…

 

 

(( Timeskip: A few hours later – Galaktoboureko ))

With the colonists out of harm’s way, they were able to complete the process of getting their computers operational, including Starfleet’s top of the line antiviral software. The reboot facilitated a full reboot of the Starfleet equipment as well, and now that it seemed like the need for their assistance was winding down, so, too, could they turn their attention back to the scientific mission that brought them to this part of space in the first place.

From the shuttle’s engineering seat, Imril did the work of analyzing the fighter wreckage with the upgraded sensor array. Kyle, wanting nothing more than to stay out of the way, lounged in one of the shuttle’s rear stations with his feet crossed at the ankle, resting comfortably on the console.

 

 

Imril: Getting good telemetry…. Comparing results against the technical specs I’d download… Looks like that fighter did some fighting before the crash. Weapons stores are roughly seventy-percent textbook maximum. That will reduce the size of the explosion nicely. ::To Silviera:: I can tell you right where to have the shuttle fire to destroy that thing once and for all. And good riddance.

 

Silveira: Response

Morgan: Sounds like a job well done, if you ask me.

Imril: =/\= Imril to Sadar. We are ready to initiate demolition at your convenience and that of Administrator Pend. Recalculated dancer zone should be :: taps out some math:: fifteen percent smaller in diameter than my earlier estimates. But risk of a wild piece of debris going afield of that range still exists. =/\=

Sadar: =/\= ::clears throat:: Y-Yes Ensign, uhh, th-the Evacuation Zone is prepared. =/\= ::takes a deep breath:: =/\= P-Proceed. =/\=

Imril: =/\= Acknowledged, Doctor. Galaktoboureko out. =/\=

 

Silveira: Response

 

Kyle’s gaze shifted back and forth between the backs of the heads of his two friends seated in front of him. A comfortable silence settled beneath them, until the physician finally decided to break it.

 

Morgan: So, how mad do you think she is?

Tag, and End Scene for Morgan!

 

 
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Lieutenant Kyle Morgan
Assistant Chief Medical Officer
USS Artemis-A
V239601AM0